Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
by La Fata Morgana
Summary: Aragorn and his youngest daughter muse over life in the forest. Post trilogy, self-made character.


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**Not All Who Wander Are Lost**

as roleplayed by   
Elendil and Morgana   
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**Disclaimer: **Aragorn belongs to Mistah Tolkien, and Gilraen is a character I created out of his convenient lack of information on the "many daughters" Aragorn and Arwen had. The name belongs to Tolkien, used first for Aragorn's mother, and it used here with respect and in honor of said character. Set well into the Fourth Age. Aragorn is written fabulously by Mike (Elendil) and Gilraen is written by moi. Enjoy.   


**Gilraen** sighed. Now and then, her mother would sit in the window of her chambers and stare off in the direction of the sea. Gilraen herself had never felt the pull of the sea like those of the Elven race often did, and didn't quite understand the dynamics of it. Shaking her head, the youngest of the queen's daughters left her mother's side and resolved to go riding. In skirts would never do, though. 

**Gilraen** Scant moments later (she did nothing faster than when she was preparing to ride) she wore soft breeches, a white tunic and green overcoat, and looked wholly inappropriate for one of the royal family. Ladies were supposed to favor gowns and such. Certainly her plethora of sisters did. She didn't understand that either. Either way, though, all she was concerned about was slinking out to the stables unobserved. And unchaperoned. 

**Aragorn** You could take a man out of the Wild, but you could not take the Wild out of the man. Aragorn was wandering the woods of Ilithien today, feeling restless after so many hours upon hours of delegates, representatives, advisors, and so many others wanting a few minutes of his time. Perhaps father and daughter shared the same soul, as the King was also clad in common attire, weatherbeaten cloaks and worn garb the order of the day. 

**Gilraen** rode out thankfully unobserved, which was a good thing since her resemblance to her mother would have made it all but glaringly obvious who she was. Reaching up to pull the hood over her dark hair, Gilraen mounted her horse, appropriately bred out of her mother's own steed. Once mounted, discretion was no longer her perogative, and the new objective was to get out into the woods and fields as quickly as possible. 

**Gilraen** With all the people wandering around the royal abode, someone was sure to notice her gone soon enough. The clattering of hooves against flagstone warned anyone in her mount's path to get out of the way as soon as possible, and she was away from people and dwelling as as fast as the bay horse could gallop. She slowed only when the canopy of forest covered her head. Relaxing, then, she gazed idly about at the foliage. 

**Aragorn** "Out to give your mother gray hairs, I see." A rebuke in form, though the voice was quite amused. Maybe even pleased. The former Captain of the Rangers stepped from the foliage onto the more worn horse trail, regarding his daughter with a warm smile. "And here I was worried all of you took after your mother." 

**Gilraen** Curses. Foiled again. The young woman halted her her horse to observe the figure that, clad as he was, was all but unrecognizable to anyone who wasn't aware of his ways. "Mother has plenty to worry about aside from me riding outside the walls now and again," Gilraen commented, dismounting with a rogueish grin. They both knew it was more than now and again. "It's stifling in those dresses. I seem to be the only one noticing, though." 

**Aragorn** "I'm not so sure I could offer a qualified opinion about dresses, so I'll take your word for that. Though your mother has eased some of her grief now that the Duke of Umbar assured her that he took no lasting offense when you hurled your drink in his face a fortnight ago." Gilraen hardly fell into the 'ladylike' mold her sisters had. Somehow, Aragorn didn't mind. The Rangers had not survived the Wild for so long by being 'gentlemanly.' 

**Gilraen** huffed irritably at that. She'd felt justified. Some people still thought it inappropriate for a lady to know how to weild a sword as Gilraen most assuredly did. There was no sidestepping the fact that she felt out of place at court. "Well, I sorely regretted that incident, believe me. But honestly! 'Unladylike', he said. I could best him in my sleep with a bow." She was hardly ever so candid as when in discussion with her father. 

**Aragorn** couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself. Gilraen reminded him of one of Rohan's female heroes. He did not follow suit with the trend of being ladylike and combat training. After all, he'd spent a fair amount of time instructing her with a sword. "I think you'll have to excuse most of the male gender, Gilraen. Too many of those I have met expect women to swoon over their abilities and stay at home raising children and keeping house." 

**Gilraen** grinned winsomely up at her father. "And thank the stars you're not like them, or else I should be in trouble far more often than I am." Leading her horse along as they walked the paths, she mused aloud with a sigh, "I want to travel the lands. See all the edges of the world." her smile turned rueful, as reality reminded her of her duties at court. 

**Aragorn** "There is a great deal to see." He couldn't really persuade her otherwise, spouting lines such as there is nothing interesting out there was a flat out lie. "Though perhaps on my next journey north, you might like to see Fornost Erain?" Deadman's Dike was a place seldom seen by anyone, though the Rangers went there. 

**Gilraen** just about gasped. "Could I?! Oh, to be away from court for even a little while. I would like that very much," she added, clasping his arm with her own. It was evident how much she adored her father. "Tell me what it's like..." Gilraen pleaded, an endearingly childish action for the woman nearing her twentieth year. The horse's neck was absently patted , Gilraen excited about the prospect of travelling. 

**Aragorn** chuckled at her youthful display. "It's actually rather gray, damp, and dreary. A former haven for cutthroats and robbers, perfect in decor. But the Rangers drove them away when we started using it as a stopover. I am thinking of staying in Bree and visiting the surrounding villages and towns, perhaps stopping in the Shire." 

**Gilraen** smiles gamely, "It sounds wonderfully rugged. And the Shire, I have often thought of what it would be like." Her expression grew pensive. "Mother will hardly be pleased with letting me go with you. Ladies ought not "tromp", as she puts it." 

**Aragorn** "We can see if we can sneak it by as a 'visit of state' or call it a 'bonding experience', just to use big words and sound important so we can get out of the stuffy castle." He grinned slightly at this. His wife was in the center of his world, although their upbringing had been different, and he knew she did not like her loved ones wandering afar, as her mother had been killed that way, and her brothers were always gone. 

**Gilraen** beamed happily, her day seeming a little brighter at the prospect of travelling to distant places with her father. Her greyish-blue gaze was hopeful as she asked, "Could we travel through Greenwood as well?" She knew fully well it was off the path they would take, but a girl could hope. "Even Mother could not refuse us a visit to Legolas." The day was fair and her spirits were high now, as she shed her overcoat and awaited an answer. 

**Aragorn** museed over the suggested detour a moment. "A bit out of the way, but not by that much. I'm not so sure about playing the visiting old friend card that often. It is a good trump, but it can lose potency if played too often." He broke into a mild grin. "Though I think it only fair to forewarn Thranduril of our approach." 

**Gilraen** laughed lightly as she replied, "We will. Shouting from outside his walls is fair warning if there ever was." She snickered, though kept the sound quiet, harboring amusing thoughts of galloping up to the borders of Thranduril's lands with no warning whatsoever. A stand of wildflowers fell victim to Gilraen's musing, and she picked them into a bunch and placed them in her saddlebag. 

**Gilraen** With a smirk, she explained, "For Mother. Who could refuse a trip in the face of such lovely flowers." She had apparently inherited her mothers' looks, but her father's wit. 

**Aragorn** arched an amused eyebrow at his daughter. "You sure you only want to shout from outside his halls? He can always lock those great magical doors of his and barricade himself inside." Glancing at her flowers, he did concede they might work. "I only recall one of your sisters ever trying that, and it had reasonably good results." 

**Gilraen** "Good on, then. We'll shout from inside." Gilraen quipped in response, her own expression not unlike the King's. Kindred souls, these two. Brandishing the bouquet with a flourish, she spoke to the horse dramatically, "Mother, please, will you let us tromp through mud and rain so that we might visit a dear friend?" Turning back to her father, she grins. "What do you think?" 

**Aragorn** adopted a thoughtful expression. "I think she'll sigh exasperatedly and glare at me as though it was entirely my idea. And it was, so to speak. But I can always promise to make sure you don't go throwing any more glasses of wine into people's faces and I think she will be more agreeable." He grinned in return, gesturing both daughter and horse back towards the castle. 

**Aragorn** "Let us steel ourselves for our task. Akin to storming the Black Gates, you know." 

**Gilraen** demured with an adoring smile, "Which only you could conquer."   


  


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Thank goodness my friends have a high tolerance for my fabricated characters...   
~Morgana 


End file.
